Aeternum Vale - Farewell Forever
by Sugar McGundy
Summary: AU - In the aftermath of tragedy, before we can move on, we have to learn to let go. As Gibbs teaches Tony this valuable lesson, he finally understands it himself. Tony!Kidfic. Sequel to In Loco Parentis. One Shot.


A/N:- This story belongs to my _**in loco parentis**_ universe and won't make sense if you have not read the original story. Although I still plan to write a multi-chapter sequel, time has been a formidable foe. I hope this little story helps fill the gap. It starts two weeks after _**in loco parentis**_ leaves off.

Reminder: Some characters will appear in roles that have no correlation to their roles on the show. This is an AU story.

_**Aeternum Vale**_

(Farewell Forever)

Gibbs rubbed a hand over his bristly chin. Removing his reading glasses, he tossed them gently onto the open files and medical books strewn before him. He reached for his coffee cup, grimacing as he swallowed the last mouthful of long-cold liquid then pitched the Styrofoam container into the trash. Pressing the heels of his hands into over-strained eyes he released a sigh that came from his boot tops.

He'd spent countless hours anxiously waiting by Tony's hospital bed and reading anything to help familiarise him with the boy's condition. Add that to the time spent arranging the modifications to his home and completing his foster carer's course and Gibbs was as exhausted as he could ever remember being.

'_Suck it up, Gunny,_' he told himself. _'If you want the boy, you__ got one shot to get this right.'_

And want the boy he did - with a burning parental desire he thought had been extinguished many years ago.

He was seated in a recliner that had been moved into Tony's room when it became obvious that the former marine had no intention of leaving the boy alone at night. A seemingly insurmountable pile of paperwork and reading material surrounded him and covered every flat surface in the room – including Tony's empty bed.

Had it only been thirteen days since Judge Harland awarded him temporary custody of eight-year-old Tony DiNozzo? Gibbs was under no illusions about the enormous health issues the young boy faced, yet every tentative step forward had seemed to result in two disheartening steps back. His tired blue eyes grew dim with recall as thoughts of the last two tumultuous weeks rushed back unbidden.

The overwhelming joy and relief of being named as Tony's guardian had quickly turned to fear when the small boy suffered a serious wound infection and spent several more days in the high dependency ward. Dangerously high fevers had exacerbated the epilepsy the boy had acquired when he was critically injured and although the seizures lessened as his fever reduced, they still occurred with alarming frequency.

In the short time since the shooting, Tony's communication and visual disturbances had improved greatly and his speech patterns and sight had returned to normal. But the young boy was still plagued by terrifying nightmares and woke from his sleep each night screaming for his parents. Gibbs would gather him into his arms, whispering calming reassurances as the small body heaved with heartbreaking sobs until he'd cried himself to sleep. Tony claimed he couldn't remember the details of his nightmares and although Gibbs had his doubts, he never pushed.

The agent's eyes drifted to the boy's empty bed and he squinted at his watch. Thirty minutes ago, Tony's new physical therapist, Ziva David, had placed the boy in a wheelchair and taken him for his first session in the physiotherapy ward two floors below. Despite attaining a Bachelor of Science degree in physical therapy in Israel, Ziva had just completed the regional licensing exams to become a registered physiotherapist in the United States and was now enrolled in Georgetown University, studying for her master's in paediatrics.

Gibbs had completed a thorough background check before deciding to hire the brash, dark-haired Israeli on a trial basis. Despite being the only living child of Mossad director, Eli David, Ziva's credentials were impressive and she had quickly formed a strong bond with Tony. Still, Gibbs wasn't sure whether he resented her assertiveness or admired her spunk when she warned him against attending Tony's first physio session.

"Like that's gonna happen," the former gunny had scoffed after they'd left the room.

He'd given them a five-minute head start before casually ambling down to the therapy room. Marginally opening the door and peering in, he watched as she reassured the anxious boy with a gentle smile and a soothing tone. She carefully moved him into position, removed his leg splints and massaged and flexed his legs muscles to keep them supple until he was strong enough to handle more rigorous strengthening exercises.

Gibbs kept his eyes on Tony's face, preparing to charge to the rescue at the barest hint of pain or distress. After several minutes he was content that Tony was not distressed and he returned to the boy's room and the mountain of paperwork that waited for him. A series of jaw-breaking yawns and the fact he had read the same paragraph several times, convinced him that his thoughts were still with an eight year old boy, two floors below. He fought the temptation to wander downstairs again and had just resumed work when Ducky entered the room and looked at the papers, books and pamphlets strewn across every available surface.

"I thought, perhaps, I could be of some assistance with the paperwork," he said with a chuckle, while extending a cup of hot coffee. "I can see my assumptions were correct."

Gibbs looked up from the documents surrounding him, almost salivating as the aroma of fresh coffee wafted toward him. He allowed a small grin and nodded his head in thanks as he reached for the steaming beverage.

"Could use your help, Duck," he replied.

"Then, my help you shall have," the ME replied cheerfully. "As long as you can assure me that young Anthony isn't buried under one of these piles. Where is the lad?"

"Physio session," Gibbs supplied. "Only person buried in paperwork is me. Even twenty years as a federal agent didn't prepare me for this."

"Ah yes, government bureaucracy at its frustrating best," the doctor agreed.

The two friends discussed Tony's progress and prognosis as they began organising and completing the documentation. Doctor McNally had been frustrated that he had been unable to find the right combination of anticonvulsant meds to stabilise Tony's seizures. He had referred Tony to a leading paediatric neurologist who specialised in seizure disorders. The specialist had recommended two surgical options and one non-surgical option for Gibbs to consider. One look at Tony's horrified expression had convinced the agent to try the non-surgical option first.

"Although this is not my area of expertise," Ducky began, "since the lad was diagnosed with acquired epilepsy, I have taken the liberty of doing some research on the matter. Both surgical options have been considerably successful and could result in a dramatic reduction of seizures."

Gibbs shook his head.

"Both McNally and the specialist agree that emotional stress and lack of sleep are triggers for seizures. Once Tony settles down the seizures could stop by themselves."

"There is a small chance that can occur but-"

"I gotta get him outta here, Duck…outta the hospital. He watched his mom get sick and die in a hospital, he lost his dad…now this," Gibbs felt his chest tighten as he continued. "Kid's terrified he's gonna die here, too."

"And what about you, my friend?" Ducky asked. "How are you holding up?"

Gibbs replied with an uncharacteristic shrug and swiped a hand over tired eyes.

"Just wanna take him home…get to know him better. Make a home for him."

Ducky cleared his throat and opened his mouth to speak but an obvious change of heart produced a deep sigh instead.

"Something on your mind, Duck?"

The ME looked hesitantly at his friend of many years and decided candour was the best option.

"As a matter of fact, there is," he said. "Knowing you as I do, I have no doubt that you are fervently committed to supporting Anthony through a very long and arduous _physical_ recovery."

"But?"

"Forgive me, Jethro, but I have to ask…have you given any thought at all to the psychological trauma he's suffered? If not addressed, the ramifications could affect this lad for the rest of his life."

"Only been two weeks, Duck. He's quiet sometimes but he's starting to relax with us," Gibbs replied as the ghost of a smile danced across his lips. "He likes Kate and Abby. Kid's already figured out that he only has to bat his eyes and they come running."

"So I've noticed," Ducky chuckled softly at some private joke. "That young man already has quite a way with the ladies."

Gibbs smiled faded.

"He's comfortable with women – was real close to his mom."

"Jethro…I believe the cause of Anthony's nightmares may be more than PTS. You told me that when you first met the boy, he didn't want his father to know that he was missing his mother."

Gibbs' mind drifted back to the day he found Tony, crying alone at the top of his favourite tree so his father wouldn't hear him.

"Didn't want to make his father sad," he added quietly.

"Don't you see? This poor child hadn't properly grieved for his mother when he saw his father brutally murdered and he suffered a near fatal injury. All that grief, horror and pain has built up inside him and manifested itself as nightmares. Has he spoken to you about the loss of his parents?"

Gibbs shook his head.

"Their deaths have destroyed the lad's belief that his world is a safe place. He needs reassurance and encouragement to begin to feel safe again. He obviously adores you but if he hasn't told you about his parents…perhaps it's time you asked."

"Don't want to push him, Duck. He'll talk when he's ready."

"With all due respect,Jethro, that is where you are mistaken," Ducky stressed. "You can't judge Anthony by your own standards. He's a small boy and he needs to grieve and if he doesn't know how… then you need to teach him."

"Not great with words, Duck," Gibbs frowned.

Ducky placed a hand on his friend's shoulder and squeezed with gentle understanding.

"Perhaps not, but you are wonderful with Anthony…I haven't the slightest doubt that you'll find the right words."

* * *

With Ducky's encouragement still hanging in the air, the men returned their attention to the paperwork, making steady progress until a shadow darkened the doorway and Ziva guided Tony's wheelchair into the room.

"I have a special delivery for Agent Gibbs," she said quietly.

With a look of consternation, Gibbs was immediately on his feet and in two urgent steps he'd reached the side of the wheelchair. Crouching in front of Tony, he cupped the boy's face in both hands, feeling the warmth of his flushed cheeks. Battling to keep his eyes opened Tony offered Gibbs a crooked grin and leaned into the man' touch as his blonde head drooped drowsily.

"He's warm," Gibbs said accusingly as he felt Tony's forehead for a temperature.

"He is warm because of the hydrotherapy. It is useful at the end of a session as it relaxes my patients," Ziva smiled as she ruffled the boy's hair. "As you can see, Tony is very relaxed, yes?"

With a sigh of relief that the boy hadn't suffered a setback, Gibbs brushed the bangs from Tony's eyes.

"How 'bout it, Sport?" Gibbs asked. "Wanna hit the rack?"

The blonde head nodded sleepily and Gibbs carefully lifted the child from the wheelchair, revelling in the feeling of the little arms wrapping around his neck. Ducky cleared the books and paperwork from the bed and Ziva drew down the blanket as Gibbs gently placed the boy beneath the covers. Tony was out for the count before his head hit the pillow and Gibbs leaned in to place a kiss on his temple.

"Sleep tight, big guy," he whispered.

Keeping Tony in sight, he motioned Ziva and Ducky to the other side of the room.

"Any problems?" he asked quietly in deference to the sleeping child.

"It went well, Gibbs, except…" Ziva replied.

"Except?" he repeated anxiously.

"We were in the middle of a very light session of flexing and manipulation when Tony suffered an absence seizure."

"Dammit," he cursed softly.

"Are you sure it was a absence seizure, my dear?" Ducky asked.

"I am sure, Doctor," she replied. "His eyelids fluttered but they did not roll back. He was unresponsive for nearly a minute but he did not lose consciousness and there was no rhythmic or non-rhythmic convulsions."

"You should have called me?" Gibbs said.

"He was fine, Gibbs," Ziva told him. "He did not even know it had happened. I wrote the details in his diary and we finished our session with hydrotherapy."

"He had a seizure and you put him in a hot tub?" Gibbs asked. "What if he'd had another one?"

"Gibbs," she replied with just a hint of impatience. "I did not place Tony into a hot tub. He had what we refer to as dry hydrotherapy."

Gibbs turned confused eyes to Ducky.

"It's a widely-accepted physiotherapy treatment, Jethro," Ducky told him. "Patients lie on a…a large water-filled mattress, if you will… that contains interior jet. These jets pulsate and heat the water which gently massages the body."

"It is intended to relieve pain, improve circulation and relax the muscles. I assure you, Gibbs, Tony was never in any danger."

Gibbs nodded in reluctant acknowledgement and turned back toward the sleeping boy when Ziva stepped, deliberately, into his line of sight.

"If our…arrangement is going to work, you need to trust that I know what I am doing. I would never allow any harm to come to Tony."

A long moment passed as the two continued to silently appraise each other.

"Understood," Gibbs replied with a brief nod.

"Good," she said gathering her things. "Then tomorrow, perhaps you would like to join us in the therapy room for Tony's next session?"

"I'll be there."

She started to leave but stopped abruptly and added over her shoulder.

"You will be surprised how much more you can see when not watching through a crack in the door, yes?"

Without waiting for a response, Ziva smiled and continued down the corridor. Ducky chortled as the men watched her retreating back.

"I believe I am going to like Ms Ziva David."

* * *

Despite the gentle nature of the morning's physio session, Tony was exhausted and slept peacefully on. A few feet away, Gibbs sat vigilantly watching the small face, noting the tiny freckles sprinkled sparingly across the bridge of the boy's nose and long dark lashes that rested on too pale cheeks. Every twitch, whimper or sigh caused the agent's heart to miss a beat as he anticipated another nightmare or worse…another seizure.

"Jethro? Jethro!" Ducky's voice, quiet but insistent, broke through his musings.

"Something wrong, Duck?" he asked.

Ducky sighed audibly, put down his pen and closed the file he was working on.

"To use your own vernacular, my friend, you look like hell," he said. "Why don't you go home and freshen up - sleep if you can - you'll feel much better for it."

"Got paperwork to finish."

"You've had that same document sitting in front of you for thirty minutes and you haven't completed the first question – go! I'll stay with Anthony until you return."

Gibbs expelled a long breath and nodded resignedly.

"Gibbs?" a little voice called from the bed.

"Look who's awake," Gibbs smiled. "You feeling okay?"

The blonde head nodded languidly as the boy yawned widely and rubbed his eyes. Ducky watched them; entranced by a curious, wordless routine they'd developed like it was the most natural thing in the world. Tony met the agent's eyes and, with the barest change to his expression, made a silent request. Nodding to indicate the message was understood, Gibbs poured a small glass of water from the nearby pitcher and held it as Tony slaked his thirst. Then, carefully gathering the child in his arms, he carried him to the adjoining bathroom; exiting a few moments later and placing Tony back onto the bed with his face washed and his hair neatly combed.

"Listen, Sport, I gotta run a few errands. Bet if you asked Ducky, he'd watch one of your movies with you," Gibbs said.

A hint of alarm flashed in the boy's eyes and he turned questioning eyes in the ME's direction as if waiting for reassurance that he would not be left alone.

"What a splendid idea!" Ducky said, already heading to the small collection of DVDs.

Gibbs placed a kissed on top of the boy's head.

"Be back before you know it," he said before nodding his thanks to Ducky and leaving the room.

Gibbs waited just outside the door for a moment to reassure himself that Tony was okay with him leaving. He grinned as he heard the relaxed exchange from inside the room.

"Now then, dear boy, what cinematic treasure will we watch today?"

He pictured the boy's index finger tapping his pursed lips as he examined his options.

"How about…Harvey?" Tony suggested.

"Harvey? I don't believe I know that one," Ducky told him.

"Oh, you'll love it," Tony enthused. "Directed by Eddie Koster in 1950, it stars Jimmy Stewart who makes friends with a six foot tall, invisible rabbit named Harvey."

"Well then, Harvey it is! I have always had a strange fascination of six foot tall, invisible rabbits," Ducky replied. "And I'll wager that if you use those sad, puppy dog eyes on the nursing staff, just like I taught you, they might just allow us a small plate of ice cream. Hmm?"

The sound of Tony's soft giggling was intoxicating and Gibbs fought the urge to go back into the room and hug the stuffing out of the kid. Instead, he headed down the corridor making a mental note to talk to Ducky about sad puppy dog eyes.

* * *

With Tony's condition stabilising, Gibbs was desperate to take him home and start a new life. He had been awarded temporary guardianship while Tony was in the hospital but Judge Harland had been very clear that before she'd allow the boy to live with Gibbs, the agent had to complete his foster carer's course and modify his home to accommodate life with a special needs child.

Shannon had often playfully teased her husband that he needed to build a sewing room onto the house for her and Kelly to use when Gibbs disappeared to his basement. As a surprise for his dearly loved wife and daughter, he had the plans approved before he left for his last tour. With his family lost to him, he'd had no need for the extra room…until now.

With time a factor, Gibbs had hired a local building firm to handle the major modifications and as he walked around his home, he was more than satisfied with the results. With the back landing closed in and extended, the space had been transformed into a sizable treatment and physio room, complete with parallel bars, massage table, floor mats, walking and standing frames. Gibbs would speak with Ziva about the feasibility and benefit of having a hydrotherapy table delivered.

The downstairs guestroom with adjoining bathroom had been the obvious choice for Tony's room. The doorways had been widened to accommodate his wheelchair and the bathroom was now equipped with a shower stool, grab bars and bath lift. An intercom/alarm button had been installed in the bathroom and beside his fully adjustable home-care bed.

Although he'd resigned from NCIS in the hope of becoming Tony's full-time care-giver, Gibbs was very aware that he was going to need a support group. Jackson had reluctantly returned to Stillwater five days ago and was already making plans to visit again as soon as possible. Gibbs had hired Ziva David to provide Tony's home physio but it was the level of encouragement and support he'd received from his team that touched him deeply.

Ducky had always been a source of stability and sage advice but his medical knowledge had proven to be invaluable during these past weeks. Even though he suspected Vance was dragging his feet in processing his resignation, the director had arranged his extended leave and called in a few favours to expedite Gibbs' foster carer application. McGee, Mitchell and Palmer had spent a long day painting Tony's room in a similar colour to his old one and had installed a mini home theatre system so the boy could enjoy his movies…judging from their excited chatter about the new Xbox games, Gibbs suspected Tony would have no shortage of playmates in that had regard.

Abby had given Tony her instant acceptance and love just as the lead agent had expected but it was the career-minded Kate who had been the surprise package. Without even trying, the eight year old boy had broken through her defences and revealed a maternal instinct a mile wide. Both Kate and Abby were completely smitten with the young boy. They had gathered Tony's belongings from the DiNozzo home, including an obscene amount of designer clothing, and had moved them to his new room. Then, armed with Gibbs' credit card, they had headed for the nearest mall and chosen new linen, matching curtains and bedroom furniture...plus a number of other items not necessarily on the list. Then, they'd decorated the room, arranging some of Tony's old belonging where he would see them from his bed and feel more at home.

This eclectic group of people, all busy with their work and their own lives, had known that Gibbs was not the kind of man to ask for help – so they had given it freely.

On the nightstand beside Tony's new bed, a framed photo captured Gibbs' attention. From Tony's age he estimated that the DiNozzo family portrait had been taken about two years ago. There was no mistaking the look in the couple's eyes as they gazed at their young son. The child was positively beaming – deep dimples framed his wide smile and his green eyes shone with happiness. Gibbs' heart constricted with the memory of another family portrait that had been carefully packed away many years ago. Ducky's words echoed in his mind.

'_You can't judge Anthony by your own standards. He's a small boy and he needs to grieve and if he doesn't know how… then you need to teach him.'_

Removing his cell from his pocket, he fast-dialled a number and tapped his foot impatiently until the call was answered.

"Jenny, it's Gibbs…I need a favour…"

* * *

An hour later, Gibbs returned to the hospital, freshly shaven and wearing and black suit and tie with a crisp white shirt. Entering Tony's room, he placed a small garment bag on the rolling table and turned to Ducky.

"Jenny has received permission for Anthony to temporarily leave the hospital. Doctor McNally has administered a precautionary dose of anti-convulsion medication," the ME said sombrely. "And Anthony and I have had a little chat...he is aware of your plans."

"Thanks, Duck."

Gibbs sat on the bed next to an ashen-faced, subdued Tony. The boy's eyes were wide with trepidation.

"You don't have to do this, Sport," Gibbs said softly. "We can go another day…anytime you want."

"I want to go," Tony whispered.

Gibbs nodded and unzipped the garment bag, removing the smallest Armani suit he'd ever seen in his life. He and Ducky helped Tony dress in silence and lifted him carefully into his wheelchair.

"I'll be right here when you return, my boy," Ducky said with a gentle squeeze to the boy's shoulder.

Arriving at Cedar Lake Lawn Cemetery, Gibbs guided Tony's wheelchair along the narrow path, watching as the boy carefully held a large bouquet of red roses and tiny white snowbells that he had chosen from a nearby florist. As they stopped alongside a double grave site, the boy's chin quivered and his eyes filled with tears as he read his parents' names on the large marble headstone.

Gibbs quickly located a large empty vase, filled it with water and held it so Tony could place the flowers into it. He positioned the vase and watched as the boy made a sign of the cross, bowed his head and moved his lips in silent prayer before turning desolate eyes to Gibbs.

"They're never coming back are they, Gibbs?" he asked tremulously.

Placing his hand on Tony's back Gibbs felt the small body trembling and gently squeezed the nape of his neck.

"I'm sorry, Tony."

A strangled sob forced its way passed his defence and the emotional dam broke as Tony sobbed inconsolably. Sweeping him from his wheelchair Gibbs wrapped his arms around the boy and held him close. Spotting a bench under a nearby tree, Gibbs took a seat with the heartbroken boy still clinging to him like a limpet. He returned the embrace; losing himself in the feeling of small arms holding on tightly, needing his protection, his guidance and love… needing him. Closing his eyes, he rubbed his cheek against the top of Tony's head, unaware of his own tears until he felt the wetness in the boy's hair.

When the sobs quietened, Gibbs handed the boy a clean handkerchief to wipe his face and blow his nose as his breathing hiccuped in short, ragged heaves. They sat together in silence until Tony spoke.

"Do you think they're in heaven, Gibbs?"

The marine looked at the little face, still blotchy with emotion, and sighed as he contemplated his reply. Words weren't his thing - never had been - most of the time silence spoke more eloquently and was more than enough...but not this time.

"Not really big on religion, Sport…but I think there's a heaven."

"You do?"

Gibbs shrugged.

"Maybe not with harps or halos but I think there's a place where there's no pain or sickness. A place of peace...no killing and no wars," Gibbs said giving the boy a gentle nudge. "What do you think?"

"I think my Mom is a beautiful angel," Tony answered with total conviction, "Can dads be angels, Gibbs?"

"I'm no expert…but I reckon there's been lots of male angels."

"Really?"

"Sure, there was Michael and Gabriel and…" Gibbs floundered, "and...Gabriel and Michael."

Tony's lips twitched in a tiny grin and his green eyes looked up at Gibbs who shrugged.

"Might have to ask Ducky about that," he conceded.

"Maybe my Dad's an angel like Cary Grant in The Bishop's Wife or Henry Travers in It's a Wonderful Life – they didn't have halos or wings or anything."

Gibbs loosened his tie and undid the collar that was threatening to choke him.

"Need you to listen to me, Sport, really listen, okay?"

Tony worried his lower lip nervously then responded with a short, affirmative nod as Gibbs cleared his dry throat with a soft cough.

"Just because your Mom and Dad aren't with you, doesn't mean you have to stop talking about them."

"Really?"

"Talking about them keeps 'em close. Helps us to heal in here," he said touching his fingers lightly to Tony's temple. "And in here," he said as he placed his hand over the boy's heart.

Tony sat quietly for a moment and then added quietly.

"I think my Dad's with my Mom now and they're watching over me."

"I'm sure they are, buddy," Gibbs said giving the child a gentle squeeze.

"Did you talk about your family when they died, Gibbs?" the boy asked innocently.

Ah...the million dollar question. The agent paused, trying to organize the thoughts floating around in his head.

"Not for a long time, Sport. I kept all the hurt locked inside. Spent so much time hanging on to it I forgot how to let it go," he said surprising himself with his candour. "Don't be like me, Tony…learn from it. I want you to talk about your parents whenever you want to and I need you to tell me whenever you're sad, or lonely or scared."

"You won't mind?"

"I won't mind."

"And you can talk to me, Gibbs," Tony countered. "Whenever you want to."

Gibbs suppressed a smile.

"Sounds like a plan," he said as Tony's brow furrowed in thought.

"Something else on your mind?"

The blonde head bowed and his voice softened to a whisper.

"Do you still miss your family, Gibbs?"

Gibbs placed a finger under the boy's chin and raised it until he met his gaze.

"Everyday," he replied.

"Does it still hurt in your heart?"

"The hurt that never goes away," he answered honestly. "But it gets better if you let it."

The boy swallowed convulsively as two crystal tears cut small trails of misery down his cheeks.

"What if I forget them, Gibbs?" he cried. "What if I forget my Mom and Dad?"

Gibbs wiped the tears from the boy's face.

"You won't forget," he said making a silent vow to ensure that never happened. "I know you're scared, Sport, but you gotta lot of people who wanna get to know you...people like me."

Tony's eyes widened and his jaw hung open.

"You wanna get to know me?" he whispered.

"Of course I do, knucklehead!" Gibbs said giving the boy a gentle noogie and savouring the sound of his laughter.

"I'd like that," he whispered shyly.

He snuggled closer to the former marine who tightened his embrace as they sat in the afternoon sun. He felt the boy grow heavier in his arms as he moved closer to sleep and he gave him a gentle nudge.

"Gotta get you back, Sport. Ducky might think I kidnapped you."

With a sigh that came from his very soul, Tony straightened his back and lifted his chin.

"I'm ready, Gibbs," he replied.

"I know you are."

The former marine carried the boy back to his wheelchair, placed him gently into it and released the brakes.

"Gibbs?" Tony said sleepily.

"Yeah, Sport."

"Could we come here again sometime?"

"You bet," he told him.

As Gibbs guided the little boy in the wheelchair back along the path, he felt a lightness in his heart that he had not felt for many years...a burning desire to move forward with his life rather than standing still as it passed him by. He shook his head and grinned as he thought of the crafty old medical examiner. Ducky had known that for Tony to learn the importance of grieving and letting go, he needed more than words, he needed an example...and Gibbs was finally ready to be that example; he was ready to let go. He reached out a hand and ruffled the blonde hair affectionately - this little boy had stolen his heart and he had no doubt that whatever problems they faced; whatever health battles there were to be fought; they would face them and win them together.

* * *

Thanks for reading, SmcG


End file.
